


a hollow crown

by julamei



Series: hollow crown [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, Season 3, bellamy doesn't know what to do, clarke is being not cool, introspective, reflective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:51:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julamei/pseuds/julamei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is not impressed with the Grounder he met in Polis parading as his partner.</p>
<p>Set after 3x03; contains spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a hollow crown

\-------------

_You lost yourself in your search to find_  
_something else to hide behind..._  
_The arrogant build kingdoms made of the different ones_  
_breaking them till they've become just another crown_  
Simon - Lifehouse 

\-------------

_“I’m sorry.”_

Her words torment him on the bumpy ride back to Arkadia. Looking at Abby just makes it worse because the woman has been fighting back tears since they left Clarke in that tower. The touching reunion she was looking forward to with her daughter is not what she received.

Clarke had changed.

The girl tied to a column in one of the hidden forest tunnels—the girl who looked at him with wide, unbelieving eyes and breathed his name—that was not the Clarke he saw in Polis.

Next to Lexa, Clarke was not herself. Lexa twisted and corrupted her, made her harder than she was, manipulating her into an unfeeling, evil bitch just like herself. He remembers Clarke in their camp at the dropship, standing next to him as the rest of the 100 surrounded them and listened and she shouted that they weren’t Grounders, that they were better than those savage ways.

Clarke was going to lose herself, and he couldn’t stop it.

_“I’m sorry.”_

It had always been the two of them protecting the group. They were the ones who made the hard decisions, the ones who suffered the accountability. But they had always been in that together. Now, she was choosing a different path. Beside Lexa, he had no idea who she’d become. She was leaving him to shoulder the responsibility of choosing what was best for their people. It was supposed to be temporary. 

She had always been the one with the ideas. The dropship blast off that saved them before the Ark had even come down, the countless times she'd successfully negotiated with the Grounders, on her own terms… she was the one who maneuvered their way out of impossible situations. When she didn’t have the strength or the ability, he was the one who acted as her hands or her voice. But the ideas, the heart, and the soul of their people rested with her. How could she lead them (and safely) with Lexa beside her, whispering in her ear?

And yet… _“I’m sorry.”_ She was taking that chance; she was still putting her faith in that heda liar. He sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. He ignores the looks from his fellow passengers and grips his hair. He should be grieving for Gina and the others they’d lost at Mount Weather, but instead he can’t stop thinking about Clarke and her dumbass decision. Fixated on that imposter Grounder girl he’d met in the chamber. 

He would recognize her anywhere; his entire being would always be acutely aware of her. They’d burst into that room, and he’d immediately zeroed in on Clarke—right in front of him (and between himself and Lexa) dressed as a Grounder goddess.

He’d been shocked. The anxiety and adrenaline of rushing to save her—Christ, he’d killed a man only minutes earlier—alleviated on spying her blonde head, the familiar frame, and the stance of her body… but then he’d taken in the rest of her. Her form wrapped in dark, figure-boasting leather and skins, her light hair braided more intricately than he’d seen any other Grounder’s. Her skin had shone golden and her eyes… He clenches a fist at the thought and looks out the window at the passing trees. He sees none of it. Her eyes had been done up like those of Grounder warriors, just as he’d seen on Octavia. But Clarke’s had been stone, like Lexa’s.

He knows the stubborn set of Ocatvia’s brows and the way she tries to close off her eyes when she’s upset or obstinate, but Clarke’s eyes were empty in the dark smear of black paint. She was suffering being there, pushing herself down and caging her emotions in order to… what? Martyr herself even further for the sake of their people? Why did it always have to be her?

He thinks back on the girl who had been so excited when she’d finally stepped out of that dropship and seen the ground for the first time. She’d looked around that forest with wonder and exhilaration. He’d scoffed at her then; her innocence had repelled him. But he’d begun to trust and seek out that goodness…

He remembers the girl who had saved him when he’d given up on himself. He'd been ready to run away, to even accept death. But she had been brave enough to say she needed him, she had comforted him and given him forgiveness. He had believed her and put his faith in her from then on. She had been his rock. But now, after months alone and being hunted—to finally see her only to have his hopes destroyed by a carefully controlled, trussed up shell of her—it’s more than he can take.

The ground had turned her into a monster. Would this Clarke even hesitate to destroy Mount Weather? Would she cry and waver and look to him for reassurance? He doesn’t know this Clarke and he doesn’t like what he sees.

And if he’s being honest with himself, he especially didn't like how she looked when she saw him.

After he’d tracked her and her captor to that tunnel, he’d knelt in front of her and seen a girl just as thrilled to see him. She’d screamed and begged and bargained for his life. He knew that Clarke, had saved her and been saved by her time and time again. But when she looked at him in that chamber, he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t read her, couldn’t get a sense of her at all, as if she hadn’t been in there. Her voice, when she’d spoken to him, had been hard and hollow. 

_“I’m sorry.”_

His fingers spark with remembrance at the urge to grab and shake her, to just throw her over his shoulder and take her home whether she liked it or not. How dare she speak to him in that voice? How dare she speak to him as if he were just another of their people that she needs to protect? They’d always been in it together, they’d always been open with each other. But she had shut him out.

He had trusted her to survive her self-imposed banishment, but he doesn’t think he can trust her in this.

She scares him, whatever it is she’s becoming. Are their lives, are their people, worth her soul?

Could they really have gone through everything, after all this time, for him to finally lose her to herself? Was she giving up?

_“I’m sorry.”_

He wants to find a way to get through to her. 

He wants to kill Lexa himself.

\-------------


End file.
